Chapter Fourteen
‘Do you want to tell me what that was all about?’ Noah asked when Carrie’s breathing calmed enough and she looked up from the floor she’d been staring at since Abby and Gemma left.
‘It’s a special photo,’ was the only explanation she offered.
‘Gemma feels pretty bad about it.’
‘Oh, God, I didn’t mean to make her feel terrible.’ Carrie realised how it must’ve looked when she hadn’t been able to utter a word to her friend. It was a mistake, that was all, and Carrie was well aware she should’ve handled it better. ‘I’ll apologise. Poor Abby, she was only playing. She’s three; she wasn’t to know.’
‘Gemma did give her a right telling off. For what it’s worth, the kid looked genuinely sorry and pretty distraught. But she wouldn’t know a scrappy piece of bubble wrap from a precious photograph.’
‘I know.’ She shut her eyes and breathed deeply before turning to Noah. ‘I bet when you took on this gardening job you didn’t realise it came with an emotional wreck of an owner.’
He blew out between his lips. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted the job if you’d told me, but I’m stuck here now. That’s better,’ he said when she smiled. He stood up, held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘What are your plans for the rest of the day?’
‘I was going to laze around and read a book, right there.’ She pointed to the window seat. ‘I’m not sure I feel like doing that now – not after I was such a monster to Abby. Why do you ask? I thought you were done for the day?’
‘I am. But I wouldn’t mind your help, if you have a couple of hours to spare.’
‘Wait, it’s not more heavy lifting, is it?’
He shook his head, his smile in place. ‘I promise you, it’s not.’
‘Then I’d be happy to help. I could use the distraction.’
He led the way downstairs as Carrie badgered him to tell her what he had planned. Carrie still had the pieces of photograph in her hand, and in the kitchen she made a snap decision. She pulled out the bin beneath the sink and dropped the pieces in, watching them scatter like ashes following a devastating loss. Which was exactly what it had been. Who knew? Maybe in some way this afternoon’s disaster could be the trigger she needed to move forward.
Less than forty minutes later Noah and Carrie were three towns further north of Magnolia Creek, and they turned off the main road and passed through the gate of somewhere called Mill House. Cows dotted the nearby landscape and there was nothing but rolling hills and the smell of real country.
‘What are we doing here?’
Noah pulled into the free space out front of an old farmhouse. ‘You’ll see.’ He climbed out of the pick-up and when Carrie did the same she registered the sound of barking coming from somewhere, but she couldn’t see any dogs in the vicinity.
Noah knocked on the door of the farmhouse and they were welcomed by a lady, who looked to be in her fifties, wearing riding boots, a wax jacket and a cowgirl hat that had seen better days. She said hello and Carrie deduced from their discussion that Noah had already talked with this woman and arranged today’s visit.
When they reached what looked like a row of stables the woman told them to take their time and to ask any questions as they arose.
‘Are we going for a riding lesson?’ Carrie giggled as she walked behind Noah, who was following the woman into the stable block.
‘Dear me, patience, girl,’ Noah whispered, enjoying keeping the surprise hidden.
The barking crescendoed and Carrie grew impatient. ‘What is this place?’ What she’d thought to be stables housed large spacious cages and in each of them were dogs of all breeds, shapes, sizes and ages.
First up was a German shepherd called Mary, second was a small white fluffy dog called Penny, then Shep, Stanley and another, called Veronica. Patsy, the lady who’d welcomed them, explained that at the front of each stable, or section, was a placard with the dog’s name, sex, age, description and a rundown of vaccination information.
‘There are so many of them,’ said Carrie.
Patsy smiled at her as Noah fussed over one dog and then another. ‘Some of the circumstances they come to us under are quite grim, but all these dogs are thriving now.’ She stopped at one of the sections, undid the grill and was greeted by an older dog, who, rather than jumping up as some of the younger ones did, immediately rolled over, exposing her tummy for Patsy to rub. ‘Maggie here came to us when her elderly owned passed away. There was no family to take on the responsibility so it was down to us. She’s old now and I don’t think she has long left, but she’s happy here.’
Carrie swallowed hard and wondered if Noah had heard, whether it made him think of Norma.
Carrie asked Patsy more about the other dogs and the circumstances in which they’d come to Mill House, and when they reached halfway down the cages she found Noah fussing over one of the dogs with the same look on his face that he’d once had for Norma. ‘You brought me here to choose another dog for you,’ she said, knowing now that this would be the dog that went home with him.
‘Are you glad you came?’
‘Actually, I am.’ She read the dog’s information on the placard. This was Hazel, a chocolate Labrador. She was four years old and when they asked Patsy more about the dog’s history they discovered she was malnourished when she came to them, having been found on a neighbouring farm where she’d likely been wandering around for days.
‘We never did find the owner,’ Patsy explained as Hazel rested her chin on Noah’s knees.
‘Probably a good job,’ he said.
Patsy nodded, and Carrie got it. She’d only ever met parents of children who wanted the top level of care, the very best for their loved ones, who fought their corner at every twist and turn along the way. These owners were people you could never understand, with their attitude towards a pet, their propensity to neglect.
‘You don’t want to say goodbye, I can tell.’ Carrie smiled at Noah after Patsy took down all his necessary details. Hazel nuzzled her nose against Carrie’s wrist, exploring this stranger but soon turning back to the man who was going to give her a home.
‘It’ll be a few weeks yet,’ Noah explained to Hazel, ‘but not too long, my girl. I’ve got a lovely house, Norma’s old basket and some new cushions, even the odd chew toy or two. Everything is ready.’
Patsy confirmed she’d come to Noah’s place to give his house the once-over, an important step, she explained, in rehoming an animal. She asked all kinds of questions, from whether Noah had children or anyone else living at the home to how many pets he’d owned previously and how many hours he spent away from the house.
‘I think Hazel will be very happy with you,’ said Patsy before they left the farm.
By the time they got back to Magnolia Creek, the pitter-patter of rain on the windscreen had stopped and the bruised clouds above parted to make way for the autumn sunshine.
‘Maybe you should adopt two this time,’ Carrie suggested as they pulled into her driveway.
‘Steady on.’ Noah unclipped his seat belt.
‘They’d keep one another company when you weren’t there.’ She hesitated. ‘Talking of company, would you like to come in? I can make us a cup of tea and we could sit outside and admire all your hard work, until we get rained on.’ She looked above because there were still dark grey clouds lurking in the distance. She hoped he’d agree to her idea because she wanted to clear the air. He’d seen her be a monster to a three-year-old that afternoon, completely overreacting at something that had been a total accident, and if she knew anything about this town it was that people liked life to be straightforward and out in the open – and if it wasn’t, they at least wanted a little harmony.
‘I’d like that, thanks.’
Owen had already been and gone for the day so after Carrie made the tea, she took two mugs outside and sat down next to Noah on the base beneath the pergola. She passed one to Noah. ‘I need to get one of those cast-iron table-and-chair sets for here.’
‘That’d look good, and you wouldn’t have to take them in when it rains either.’
‘Have you seen any suitable sheds?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t had a chance to look yet, but don’t worry, you’ll get your woman cave some way or another.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked around her, at the garden, up at the house. ‘I can’t believe this place is nearly finished. It’s even better in reality than I imagined it to be.’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ When she nodded he said, ‘Sometimes the things in our heads are different from what they are for real.’
‘Cryptic,’ she grinned.
‘Thank you for coming to Mill House with me today.’
‘I enjoyed it. But you didn’t really need my help, did you? Something tells me you already knew which dog you were going to choose.’
‘Caught red-handed. I’d already looked online and it was just a matter of visiting in person and sorting the finer details.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I took you out there because I wanted you to see Patsy, to see how she takes dogs in and cares for them and most of the time they get to go to good homes. But, as she explained, some come to her and are too old so they won’t be rehomed, they’ll live out their last days with her. Some things are beyond our control, but if we care enough we can use our emotions to give as much as we can.’ He put down his mug. ‘Sometimes, giving as much as we can still won’t be enough though.’
‘Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about dogs anymore?’
‘Who was he, Carrie?’
Goose pimples travelled up her arms and her neck and she swallowed, hard.
Noah spoke when she couldn’t. ‘The boy in the photograph was a patient, wasn’t he?’ When her head snapped up he shrugged. ‘I figured it out. And I’m guessing he was behind this sudden move away from the city, upping and leaving everything behind.’
She didn’t have to confirm it, he already knew. She shivered some more when a dull grey cloud blocked the sun and she picked up the extra cardigan she’d brought outside with her. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she told him all about Lucas, the little boy who lived on forever in her heart and the one who had changed her for good.
‘Lucas came to us when he was eight years old. He was a bright, bubbly boy but was plagued with stomach aches, tiredness, a rash on more than one occasion and acid reflux. I think I always bond with my patients because it’s the job, but Lucas was different.’
‘In what way?’ His voice was soft, patient.
‘Lucas came to us time and time again, and on one occasion he asked me why I was so quiet. He wanted to know what had happened to make me different. I was taken aback by how perceptive he was and I explained that my gran had died that morning – peacefully in her sleep, but I had been very close to her.
‘You know, he put a hand on my arm, much in the same way as I probably did to him a million times, and it was in that moment I realised the power of such a small gesture. There were no big words accompanying it, but the skin on skin, the reassurance that other people cared, well, it almost took my breath away. We started to joke more at Lucas’s appointments, he drew pictures for me that I pinned up in my office, and I looked forward to seeing him. He took everything in his stride: tests for allergies, scans, endoscopies, a colonoscopy. But we couldn’t find anything to explain what was going on.’
When Carrie stalled, Noah offered her another cup of tea, and they moved inside when the sun gave up and hid behind a cloud.
With the warmth of the second cup clutched between her palms, sitting next to Noah on the beanbags in the lounge, Carrie went on. ‘Lucas had seen a photograph of me on the office pinboard with another patient. I was dressed as Supergirl and Lucas told me I was going to use my superpowers to fix him too. The photograph you saw was of Lucas and me, and it was taken by his mum one day at the hospital. He asked for the photograph so he could pin it on his own pinboard at home and every time his tummy hurt or his body ached, or when he had a fever, he’d be able to look at our smiling faces and know it wouldn’t always be this way. His mum gave me the identical photograph and I kept it in my office alongside others, but it was the one that always felt the most powerful in a way that scared me.
‘I found myself following his case more than I would any other child. I didn’t cross any professional boundaries but his case became one I couldn’t bear the thought of not solving. I think that was why I became a bit obsessed. Most of the time a diagnosis was straightforward enough but this went on and on and it really got to me. Lucas was still plagued with tummy aches and started to suffer at school because of it. One day he drew me a picture of him sitting at a desk, next to a window. I asked him who the other person in the picture was – was it his teacher, and was his teacher nice? He told me he wasn’t going to school for a while and his dad was teaching him at home until things settled down.’
Noah waited for her to carry on and it took a while but she managed to get out the rest of the story. ‘One day, Lucas was rushed into emergency. His organs were failing and we finally found that the root cause of all his problems was his heart. He needed a transplant. But we’d found out too late.’ Her voice wavered and she almost lost control. ‘He was on the waiting list and died before he got his miracle cure.’
‘I’m sorry, Carrie.’ Noah reached out and put his hand over hers. ‘But the circumstances were beyond your control.’
‘Were they?’ She pulled her hand away. ‘He trusted me to fix him. If we’d looked at the heart straight away, we would’ve known what was going on: he could’ve been on the list sooner.’
‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing.’
‘I failed him.’
Noah took something out from the pocket in his shirt and handed it to her.
Tears clouded her eyes but not so much she couldn’t see it was the photograph of her and Lucas. ‘How did you…’ The photo she’d thrown into the bin had been taped together and she clutched it against her chest.
‘I fished the pieces out,’ Noah explained and then couldn’t help himself. ‘Not a pleasant task, sifting through scraps of food.’ It worked, because she managed a small smile. ‘I know it’s not great, all taped together, but I thought you’d regret getting rid of it.’
‘Thank you.’ She dared to look down at the photograph now. ‘He was just another patient, that’s what Lachlan could never understand. But for some reason he got to me more than anyone else. I’d lost patients before – not many, but some – and it’s always unimaginable. But Lucas…’ She looked at Noah. ‘His parents blamed me.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘They hated me. They yelled, they screamed, his mum came at me and tugged at my clothes, pounded her balled-up fists against my chest. One of the other doctors had to get her off me, hold her back.’ She put her head in her hands and felt Noah’s hand rest reassuringly between her shoulder blades. Even now she could remember the shivering Melbourne day with the temperature fixed at nine degrees as the wind howled around the hospital corridors, mixed with the wails from distraught parents who should never have had to go through anything like this. ‘They blamed me for not finding the problem sooner, told me I should’ve done more. And we should have. We were the medical professionals, we were responsible.
She gulped. ‘I’ve never seen anyone look at me the way his mum did.’
‘Carrie, deep down you must know it was grief. I suppose to his mum you’ll always be the woman who told her Lucas had died. She probably couldn’t see past that.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘You know, people trust me with their money, they trust me to work magic on spaces that are neglected, run-down and downright awful. They want beauty and something to impress, and I’m lucky – I’m told I have a natural talent for it.’ She wondered where he was going with this conversation until he continued. ‘Doctors study and train for years, even I know that. And the reason is because medicine is so damn complicated. I did a short course in gardening, set up my own business and was good to go, but doctors don’t have that luxury. If I’m wrong about something and a plant dies, I can get rid of it and put something else in its place. Quite often I realise I shouldn’t have planted it in that particular garden anyway, but mistakes are easily rectified in my line of work. They aren’t in yours. Sometimes, doctors don’t have the answers – not because they’re lazy or not clever enough, but because sometimes a problem is next to impossible to solve, and you can’t afford to make mistakes. Only when you have the solution can you look back at all the clues and ask yourself why you didn’t work it out in the first place.’
‘I appreciate what you’re trying to say.’
‘But you don’t believe it.’ When she pulled a face he said, ‘I bet every doctor goes through what you’re going through. Lachlan must doubt himself sometimes.’
The mention of her boyfriend in their conversation felt intrusive but she answered anyway. ‘I think he’s got a tougher skin than me. He sometimes gets upset but he is always confident he did everything he could to help a patient. Maybe that’s the difference.’
‘I don’t know you all that well, Carrie, but caring kind of makes you the person you are. If that makes any sense.’
She accepted the compliment but then looked down at the photograph again. ‘I see his mum’s face all the time.’ Tears fell freely down her cheeks; despair rained out of every pore. ‘I used to dread bumping into her on the street, thinking she’d out me to everyone around, yell that I’d taken her boy from her.’ Her voice broke and Noah moved from his beanbag to hers, squashing in the best he could to hold her as she cried.
‘You need to remember that for every child you can’t save, there will be hundreds of others you can.’ He stroked her hair. ‘Let the good override the bad.’
She looked up at him and for a moment their faces were so close she could feel the warmth from his skin, the feel of his breath, and she knew he felt something too. They moved closer still, and he looked about to kiss her, but he pulled away.
He took his keys from his pocket. ‘I’d better go. Patsy’s coming over to check the house.’
She looked at her watch. ‘I need to get going too.’ She had half an hour to get to the hospital and although she felt drained, she also felt better now she’d finally told just one person the truth. Funny – she’d thought it would be Rosie she confided in, or her sister. Never for one moment had she thought it would be Noah.
‘I’ll let myself out,’ he said.
‘Good luck with Patsy.’ It was all she could manage because she knew she hadn’t misinterpreted the chemistry between them, but it seemed they’d both chosen to ignore it.